


Strictly Secret

by LadyAJ_13



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dancing, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a secret, but Tony has a knack of turning up at the wrong time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strictly Secret

It’s 3am and Steve is watching television in the communal lounge. After refusing to have the modern device in his bedroom, he can’t find a more private time to watch this show.

 

More accurately, perhaps, he’s studying the television. He’s about a foot away from the screen and although the sound is turned down low, his right hand is subconsciously tapping out the beat of the music until it ends in applause.

 

“Beautiful top line, really…” It’s barely a whisper emitting from the set, but Steve’s super hearing picks it up easily. He makes a note on the pad of paper he has resting on one knee.

 

\--

 

It’s 3am and Tony has vacated the workshop after nearly 36 hours of work. He’s getting too old for this. He still has equations racing around his head, but he knows himself well enough that if he tries to carry on working in this state something will soon go boom.

 

So over-tired the idea of falling straight into bed seems impossible, he instead detours for the kitchen, throwing together a sandwich and grabbing a bottle of juice from the fridge. With slow, shuffling steps, he makes his way to the lounge. A few minutes of mindless, early-hours TV drivel will quiet his brain.

 

\--

 

“I just want you to work on your feet – have fun, but don’t forget the steps!” Steve grins and doesn’t bother noting that down.

 

On the screen, a beautiful woman in a 20s flapper dress and her suave partner run up some stairs to chat with the show’s co-host. Steve takes the opportunity to stretch; he’s been here for nearly an hour and being crowded so close to the television is uncomfortable, but he doesn’t want to risk waking anyone up.

 

“What are we watching?”

 

Tony slumps onto the sofa as Steve nearly breaks his neck swivelling round. Where had he come from?!

 

“And turn it up a bit could you Cap, we don’t all have your ears.”

 

Tony is picking at his sandwich, tearing off pieces of ham. He has bags under his eyes and the fact that he hasn’t yet begun ridiculing Steve for his program choice belays the fact that he’s too tired to notice.

 

“Er, shouldn’t you be in bed, Tony?”

 

Tony sighs. “I just stopped working and I need some fucking drivel to be able to get to sleep so just turn it up, ok?”

 

They’re mostly good now. They’ve managed to get over all the macho rubbish that coloured the first few days of their relationship and it’s working out well. It’s unusual for Tony to speak to Steve impatiently, especially when there’s no masked hint of affection or teasing colouring the statement, but it’s ok. They’re friends, and sometimes friends snap at each other. Maybe, sometimes, friends let friends in on secrets. Steve picks up the remote and turns the volume up a few notches.

 

“Please welcome our next couple…”

 

Steve is watching Tony, rather than the screen, so he can see the exact moment when the fog of tiredness lifts and re realises what he’s watching. His mouth opens and Steve swears, if he could replay that moment, there would be an actual twinkle in Tony’s right eye.

 

“You’re watching Dancing with the Stars?” The impatience has gone, replaced by barely-checked amusement. Steve huffs.

 

“It’s Strictly Come Dancing,” he replies. “The original British show. JARVIS hacked into the BBC’s online streaming service for me.”

 

“Of course he did,” Tony sounds proud of his AI’s achievements. “Doesn’t really explain why you wanted to watch it, though.” His eyes catch on the notebook on Steve’s knee, and while he knows Tony can’t read the miniscule, tidy letters from where he’s sitting, he can’t help shifting and laying a hand over it. “You know, that’s not really the way to learn to dance,” he says slowly. “I assume that’s the reason for watching?”

 

Steve nods with a small shrug. “Only way I could try.”

 

“But this is New York, Stevie!” Tony spreads his arms out wide. “This town is absolutely crawling with out of work dancers and performers who I’m sure would be more than happy to teach Mr Captain America the quick-step.”

 

He’s already pulled his StarkPhone from a pocket and begun scrolling through. No doubt he has a few of those dancers’ numbers tucked away from the old days.

 

“I don’t-“ Steve stops, but so does Tony. His left index finger hovers over the touchscreen, but dark brown eyes are staring into his, concerned again.

 

“I don’t want a dancer-“ he stops himself again; this isn’t coming out right. “Did you ever hear the recordings of my last few minutes before the plane crash?” he asks. He knows Howard kept memorabilia about him; it’s not hard to imagine a young Tony trying to see what all the fuss was about. Tony nods. “Stork Club, eight o’clock.” Realisation dawns on Tony’s face, but Steve ploughs on, because now he’s started its easier to keep going. “Peggy was going to teach me to dance. It would have been our first proper date, except, of course, I never made it.”

 

Tony has put his phone down now, but for once he doesn’t seem to have anything to say.

 

“It’s fine,” adds Steve. “I mean, it sucks, but its ok, you know? It’s getting ok. It’s been decades for her but it’s been months now for me too, and I’m moving on. But dancing – it was going to be something special. The start of something, I guess. It just doesn’t seem right to have some –“ he waves his arms a little, and Tony can almost hear the phrase ‘fancy woman’ filling in the gap.

 

“Well, there are other options,” he reasons. “Not the note-taking; sorry Cap, but even with your knack for picking things up you’re not going to learn to dance from watching TV and taking notes.” He slides the phone back into his pocket. “But I can dance,” he adds.

 

Steve looks up. He’s surprised, but when he thinks about it, he’s not sure why. It kind of makes sense; Tony’s so happy in his own body, so graceful, even when piloting the great hunk of metal that compromises one of his suits.

 

“It’s not proper for the only son and heir of one of America’s greatest families to be unable to foxtrot,” he says it with a grin, but it still sounds like he’s parroting someone else. Perhaps Howard, perhaps his mother – whoever that was. Steve suddenly realises there’s a lot he doesn’t know about the man he’s been living with for the last few months.

 

“We can invite the rest of the team, too,” Tony carries on, and now his tone seems lighter. “I bet Romanov and Barton can both dance – that whole super spies undercover as rich people cliché must have roots somewhere – but I know for a fact that Brucie-baby has two left feet so he can be your classmate.”

 

He’s back on the phone now, tapping away and probably scheduling an emergency meeting for tomorrow morning. Natasha will chew him out about inappropriate use of the word ‘Assemble’ for dance classes while Bruce will try and make his excuses before giving in to his best friend, because he’s still not used to people wanting him around. Thor will think it’s a grand idea and start trying to organise a ball, or something. Clint will just be up somewhere high, eyes on everyone but amused, all the same. And Steve? Well maybe this time, Steve won’t be the one to rein Tony in.


End file.
